Disclaimer: The setting of this story, and most of the characters are the intellectual property of J.K. Rowling, I lay no claim to them. However the characters of Malana Avonell and Schön are of my own creation and to these two, I do claim rights.

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Wednesday afternoon couldn't come soon enough for Harry.  His last class that day was also his least favorite class, Potions. 

Snape prowled the classroom like a hungry wolf looking for even the smallest of mistakes.

"That potions' too thick!" he hissed malevolently to one student.  "That's the wrong color," to another.

"He's in a bad mood," Harry whispered to Ron, when Snape was across the room.

"Has been all week, so I hear," Ron returned, adding crushed beetle to the caldron he and Harry were working on.

 Snape glared at them.

"Careful," Harry warned under his breath, "I don't want to be kept after."

Harry glanced at his watch, 15 minutes to go.  He and Ron continued working in silence.  As Harry tipped a bottle of Mare's sweat into their caldron, he stole another glance at his watch, 10 minutes to go.  But in doing so he split some of the liquid into the fire, causing it to sputter and spit furiously.  Snape spun around and glared at them viciously.

"Mister Potter," he said very slowly.

"S … Sorry Sir," Harry gulped.

Snape turned away and continued prowling the classroom.

Ron shook his head giving him a look of warning.

When the class finally ended, Harry hurriedly gathered his things.  As he started for the door, Snape's low voice stopped him, "One moment Mr. Potter."  Harry froze.  Ron gave him a look that plainly said; I'll see you latter, and left.

Harry looked up at the Potions Master, meeting his dark eyes.

"I would appreciate it, that when you are in my class," he said malevolently, "you would keep your mind on my class!"

"Ye … yes Sir.  It won't happen again," Harry stammered under the intensity of glare the Potions Master gave him.

"Now go!"  Snapped Snape, pointing to the door.

Harry scrambled out of the classroom and didn't slow down until he had reached the top of the stairs leading up from the dungeons.

Now why on earth, he thought to himself, did I let him intimidate me like that?  Shrugging to himself he proceeded up the next flight of stairs to the second floor.

He found Professor Avonell's classroom empty.  Had she forgotten she had promised to meet him?  He glanced around the room and saw that the door to her office was open.  He walked over and looked in.

"Hello, Harry," Avonell greeted him.  She was standing behind her desk, leaning over a rather large opened book.  "Please come in."

He stepped inside, closing the door behind him, "We were going to start . . ."

"We were going to start your training," she completed his thought.  "Please sit," she indicated the chairs by the fire.  He sat.  She closed the book and returned it to the shelves.

"You start tonight, by learning how to discipline your mind," she said removing a small black velvet box from a drawer in her desk.  "I'm afraid it's not very glamorous, but it is a fundamental part of the whole Technique," she walked over to him and sat down facing him.

"How do I do that?" He asked.

"You start with this," she handed him the box.

He accepted the box and was surprised to find it was a ring box.  Slowly he opened it.  Nestled inside was a golden ring set with a large ruby held between to apposing lions, the tails of which form the shank of the ring.

"Wow," the word escaped his lips more like a breath then a word.

"Go ahead, take it out," she urged him gently.   He removed the ring and set the box aside.

Avonell crossed her legs and leaned back in her chair, folding her hands in her lap.  "Now Harry, if this is going to work, you must trust me," she began, "you must listen to what I tell you, do as I tell you, and trust both me, and yourself."

He looked at her, "I don't understand," he told her.

"You soon will," she replied.  "Now sit back and get comfortable."

He did as he was told.

"Now hold the ring before you, so that you can support it in the figures of both hands," she continued, her tone slipping into a soft monotone.

He propped his elbows on the arms of the chair and held the ring between his figure tips.

"Now, I want you to look into the ruby.  Relax.  Breathe in through your nose --- and out through you mouth.  Good," her voice was calm and soothing.

Harry gazed into the ruby letting him self relax.

"Very good," she continued, "Now I want you to center your thoughts, see only the ruby, think of nothing else.  Now see into the stone, into its depths."

Harry did.  He had the strange sensation his was moving downward, into the ruby.

"Don't stop, you're doing fine," she went on, her volume lowering so that Harry had to strain to hear her.  "Find the center of the stone.  Good, good.  There is a light in the center, I want you to allow that light to shine."

Harry concentrated, the ruby seeming to fill his field of vision.  He stared into its many facets, into the very heart of the gem for long time.  Slowly, feebly a pinprick of light glowed at the very center of the stone. He jumped, dropping the ring from his fingers.

"Easy," Avonell soothed as she bent over and retrieved the ring.

"I . . . I'm sorry, Professor," he apologized.

"Not to worry," she said smiling at him warmly, "but I must say I'm very impressed.  It usually takes many hours of practice before the light is seen.  It took you," she glanced at the mantel clock, looked back at him and raised an eyebrow, "twenty minutes?" she handed the ring back to him.

"What's next?" he asked anxiously. "Can I try again?"

Avonell sat back and regarded the teenager.  "Latter.  But you will need to be able to get the light glowing much brighter before we can move on."

"How much brighter?" he wanted to know.

She smiled and extended her hand.  Harry dropped the ring into her palm and watched as she too propped her elbows on the chair arms and supported the ring in the figures of both hands.  She closed her eyes half way and instantly the ruby glowed with a bright intense light.

"Oh," he sighed dejectedly.

"Don't worry, Harry, it will come.  I've been doing this for a very long time, and you don't need to get it glowing quite that bright for us to move on," she assured him.  "I want you to keep this ring, after all it was your father's."

Harry sat up, accepting the ring back, "It was?" he muttered, "then he studied the technique too?"

She shook her head, "no he never did.  The ring was given to him by his – parents when he started at Hogwarts, but he was never interested in studying with me."

"How did you come to have it?" he asked looking her in the eyes.

"That, my son, is a very long story.  One I am not ready to tell, or that you are ready to hear."

Harry shuttered and averted his eyes, "you are not my mother," he whispered.

"No, you are right.  I won't refer to you that way again.  I'm sorry," she apologized.

They sat in silence for several moments.

"I want you to practice," she said finally breaking the quite.  "But don't go flashing that ring around.  It might make certain people jealous, and I wouldn't want it to go missing."

"I understand," he nodded reaching for the box.  He placed the ring in the box and slipped it into a pocket in his robes.

"We'll meet again in one week to see how you are getting on," she told him soothingly.

"Thank you, Professor," he said getting to his feet.

"One other thing, if you don't mind?" her voice was still soft and gentle.  "If you ever find the need to talk with someone, about anything, you are welcome any time."

"Thank you," he said just as softly.

In the hallway he leaned against the wall.  He felt tired, but good.  He felt the ring box in his pocket and smiled to himself.  Something else of his father's he now had possession of.  But why did Professor Avonell have it?

He shrugged.  It was nearly dinnertime, and he was hungry.  He hurried off, wanting to hide the ring in his dorm room before going to the Great Hall for dinner.

***

That night, Harry stole out of the common room early.  He wanted to try one more time with the ring before he went to sleep.  He changed into his pajamas and retrieved the ring box from his trunk.  He drew the hangings around his bed closed and sat cross-legged.  Holding the ring before him, he tried to make it glow again.

"Harry, can I talk to you a minute," it was Neville.  He pulled back the hangings catching sight of the ring before Harry could conceal it.  "Oh, you have one too," he added excitedly.  Neville held out his hand and showed Harry a sapphire about the size of a large marble, but it was just the stone, it wasn't set into a ring.

Harry nodded, stuffing the ring back into its box.

"Have you been able to make it glow yet?" Neville asked anxiously.

"No," he lied.

"I haven't either," the other boy sighed.  "But Professor Avonell thinks I can learn to do it.  But I have no idea what good it will do me."

"You never know," Harry, answered him.

"Do you trust Professor Avonell?" Neville asked.  "She said I have to trust her."

"She's a good woman," Harry said recalling his note form Serious.

"But do you trust her?"

"Yes," he told the other boy. "Yes I do," Harry faked a yawn. "I'm tired Neville.  Good night."

Neville sighed and left Harry, who snuggled down into his bed, tucking the ring box into his pillowcase.

Why did she have the ring? He asked himself again.

It occurred to him to send a letter to Serious and ask him if he knew, but harry hadn't realized just how tired he was.  Getting out of bed to write that letter didn't seem all that important at the moment.

***

Harry heard the high cold laughter he had come to associate with Voldemort, but there was another laugh as well.  A low guttural laugh that made is blood run cold.

Out of the swirling mist of a dream he saw the slender silhouette of Voldemort approaching him.  Beside him walked a second, strange figure.  This figure had the body of a well-muscled adult man, but it had the head of a Jackal.  It was bear-chested, except for semi-curricular collar of gold and white, and there was a golden ring through each nipple.  It wore a white pleated skirt over strong legs and sandals on its feet.  Its skin was well tanned and its yellow eyes glared at Harry.

Slowly the Jackal-headed man raised an arm and pointed at him.

"Yes," the dark Lord hissed, "that's the boy.  But I want the woman also.  You promised me the woman as well, Nefru."

"Av-o-nell," the Jackal-headed man growled, and both laughed.

"Yes, it will be a fitting piece of revenge," The Dark Lord continued, "you'll see.  For all those involved."

"Do what you will," the other creature grumbled, "I care not, so long as she is destroyed in the end."

They both laughed again, a horrible malicious laugh.

Harry sat bolt upright in bed gasping for air, his scare searing with pain.

It was just a dream, he told himself, only a dream.

But it hadn't felt much like a dream, it had felt real.

He scrambled out of the bed, retrieved the invisibility cloak from his trunk, and crept to the door.

"Where are you going?" yawned Ron from his bed.

"I'm just going to the bathroom," Harry answered, "go back to sleep."

"Oh ok," Ron muttered and rolled over.

Harry waited for moment to make sure that he had gone back to sleep, before heading out of the dorm.

In the stairwell he swung the cloak over himself and started down.  It was nearly midnight, and there was only one other person in the common room, a first year boy who had fallen asleep in front of the fire. As quietly as possible he stole across the room and pushed open the portrait hole.  The Fat Lady was gone, obviously off on a nighttime visit, he was grateful for that.  Harry made his way down staircases and through hallways until he stood in front of Professor Avonell's office door.

He knocked on the door, and then waited.  No answer.  He knocked again harder.  Still nothing.  He pounded on the door this time, and waited again.  Getting no response, he pounded again, glancing nervously down the hallway expecting to see Filch coming toward him.  In desperation pounded on more time.

"I'm coming, I'm coming.  Keep your shirt on already," came a voice from inside.

Harry whipped off the invisibility cloak just as the door snapped open.  A sleepy eyed Professor Avonell was staring down at him in disbelief.

"Harry, what's wrong?" She asked.

"I have to talk to you," he demanded.

It was obvious that the youth was not going to be turned back.

"Ok," she sighed stepping aside to allow him to enter.

Fifteen minutes latter, his hands wrapped around a steaming mug of tea, Harry finished recounting his dream.

Professor Avonell was silent for a very long moment, her fingers steepled in front of her mouth, studying Harry intently.  She lowered her hands.

"Harry, have you been reading Hermione's Rune textbooks lately?"  She asked.

"No," he answered truthfully.

"Because the creature you've described is Anubis, the Egyptian god who lead the dead to judgment," she told him.  "And Hermione's Rune class is studying Egyptian Hieroglyphs."

Harry shook his head and sipped at his tea.

"Look, it was just a dream.  But I can see how much it has upset you," she continued.  "Understand that for right now you are safe.  I know that you have an invisibility cloak and that you probably used it to get here tonight.  Go back to your dorm . . ."

"But . . ." he started to protest.

"Harry, you can't stay here," she cut him off.  "Nothing is going to happen tonight.  I give you my word on that," she cocked her head slightly.  "And I am a woman of my word."

Harry nodded and sat his cup down.

"Thank you Professor," he said getting to his feet.

"We will talk about this again tomorrow," she told him.

He smiled and saw himself out.

Avonell sighed heavily.

"Meow?" Schön cried slinking out of the shadows.

"Nefru – Nefra, I admit they are close," she replied to the cat's question, "but I really don't think so.  Or at least I hope not.  If Nefra is involved then we have fare more trouble then we bargained for."

She paused a moment before getting to her feet.

"But why the image of Anubis?" she mumbled to herself.

***

At breakfast the next morning Harry told Ron and Hermione about the events of the previous night.

"I think the Professor was right Harry," Hermione was saying, "you must have seen the picture of Anubis in my textbook."

Harry frowned.

"Where is Avonell?" Ron asked looking up at the staff table.

"Sometimes she eats in her office," Hermione informed them.

"When do you see her?"  Harry asked his friends.

"I see her this afternoon," Hermione said excitedly.

"I see her tomorrow, before lunch," Ron added, but he didn't sound too enthusiastic about it.

"Don't you want to learn the technique?" she asked.

"Well," Ron answered, "it's just that I'm not very good at that sort of thing."

"She got Neville trying," Harry said absently.

"Neville?" Ron repeated disbelievingly.

"Where there you are Ron," Hermione said, "if Neville can do it, so can you."

"Yeah, you're right," Ron said resolutely, "why not?"

Harry looked up from his half eaten breakfast.

"I just hope we can learn before you-know-who shows up," he said glumly.

At that moment, Schön leapt up on to seat next to Harry.

"I'm sorry Schön, I can't give you anything," he told the cat, with out looking at him.

Schön deposited a folded piece of parchment next to Harry's plate.

"What's that?" Ron asked straining to see as Harry unfolded the note.

"It's from Professor Avonell," he said reading it, "She wants to talk to me about my dream." 

"You shouldn't have bothered her with it," Hermione said.

Harry shook his head, "it seemed like the right thing to do at the time," he sighed.

***

Harry entered Professor Avonell's office hesitantly.  Her note had said to come at 6:00, but she wasn't there.  Could she be in the classroom?  He started for the connecting door.

"Oh good, you're on time," came Avonell's voice.

He turned to find her standing tin the opening in the bookcase.

"I'm sorry," he answered with out thinking.

"Sorry about what?"  She asked moving toward him, "your really shouldn't apologize automatically like that.  There are some people who might take that as a sign of weakness."

Harry shrugged in response.

"Please, have a seat," she said as she took one herself.

Harry sat facing the Professor.

"Now, about that dream you had."

"You were right, it was only a dream.  I shouldn't have bothered you . . ."

"Last night you thought you should," she interrupted him.  "It upset you enough to risk breaking more then one school rule to come down here."

"It's just that . . . that it seemed so real," he told her.

"Dreams can be like that at times," she sat back, "have you ever had prophetic dreams before?"

"Prophetic?"

"Dreams that have latter come true?"

Harry thought for several moments.

"Not really . . . sort of  . . . I'm not sure," he finally replied.

"Why do you suppose you had that dream?" she asked calmly.

"I don't know," he told her.

"Ok," she sighed, "I know that you have survived encounters with Voldemort twice, three times if you included his memory."

Harry looked up at her.

"Oh yes, the Headmaster told me all of it," she answered his unasked question.

"He killed my parents, and he wanted to kill me," Harry whispered, "and I don't even know why . . . really."

"Well, unless he bothers to explain himself, or you're a mind reader, I'm afraid you may never know," she said gently.

"You knew my father," he said looking up at the Professor, "do you know why . . ."

"I'm sorry, I don't," she said flatly.

Harry held her gaze, somehow, he wasn't sure how, he knew that wasn't the truth.

"That's not true," he said very slowly.

"Excuse me?" Avonell said raising her eyebrows.

"That's not true," he repeated, "you do know why Voldemort killed my parents."

"And just what makes you say that?" she said her voice betraying a touch of embarrassment.

"I can just tell," he answered, not really sure how he did know that.

"Hmm," she studied the teen for a minute.  "Can you at least try and explain?"

"I can see it in your eyes, feel it in your presence," Harry answered timidly after a long pause.

"Very interesting," Avonell said with a sly smile.  "Has this ever happened with anyone else?"

"No," Harry responded quickly.  Then after a short pause, "well, once but Hermione said I was just being paranoid."

Professor Avonell drew a long breath and let it out slowly,  "It's called Truth Reading," she explained,  "and before you start thinking about how great it's going to be, let me explain a few things.

"First of all the truth can be a very cruel companion, it will tell you things you'd rather not know, and secondly, the truth is not always absolute.  Truth can be highly subjective and what you may read as the truth from one person, you may read as a lie from another."

Harry starred at her completely confused.

"Ok," she began again,  "let me think.  Truths about facts are simple enough; did you or didn't you do something, for example.  But even that has its complications.  When truth involves any measure of opinion it get very complex."

"But you do know why my parents were killed," Harry pushed.

"I only believe I know.  Remember your father was only 16 the last time I saw him," she told him in a very serious voice.

"Then why do you believe they were killed?" the teen pressed.

"I can't . . . answer that," the Professor said sadly, "Please, don't ask me again."

Harry pouted.  "Can you at least tell me why you had my father's ring?"

"Not at this time."

It was an answer Harry didn't want to hear.  How many times in the last 5 years had he been told that?  Why were there so many secrets?

"But we've gotten off the subject here," Avonell said softly, "I asked you here to talk about that dream…"

They talked for another hour, before the Professor brought the session to an end.

"Perhaps in the future, should this happen again, you could wait until morning?" she asked, then continued before Harry had had a chance to say anything, "or at least give me a warning."

"Ah . . . how?" he asked.

"I suppose the fireplace in your common room is a bit too public," she said getting to her feet.  "I'm going to give you something, but please don't go showing it to people."  She went to her desk and removed something from a drawer, "it's not exactly magic, but it does work."

Returning to the fireplace she handed Harry what looked like a small silver disk about the size of a Muggle coin and slightly thicker.

"Just squeeze it and it will send a signal to my computer, who will in turn, let me know you're on your way," she explained.

Harry turned the disk over in his hand.  "What if you're not in your office?" he questioned.

"Don't worry, I'll get the message.  Now you best be getting back to Gryffindor tower."

"Thank you Professor," he told her, putting the disk in his pocket.  "I'll see you next Wednesday?"

She nodded and saw him out.

"Schön," she called to the cat, who appeared from under the desk, "I think we need to see Professor Dumbledore."